


The DM is a Neutral God

by xaidyl



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: Dark! Matt, I have three exams tomorrow, Idk I wrote this to procrastinate, It's kinda dark tbh, Multi, Relationships sorta but not much, Spoilers up to episode 97, Stockholm syndrome ish, Very Matt centred, Weird settings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-09-08 05:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8832454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xaidyl/pseuds/xaidyl
Summary: Matt sits in front of eight beds. And he reads to them. -------------A quite odd look at Critical role, Matt, and the dice.





	1. Fingerprints

Matt opened his book, stroking softly over the leather cover, fingers flicking through the soft pages. He leaned back in his chair, also leather, his shoulder length hair brushing down the wall. He got to the page where he left off, and began to read.

 

In front of him there was eight beds. Seven with occupants. They lined the wall in front of him, the door next to the eighth bed on the far right. Matt spoke to them. Matt had the power over them. Matt could control them. He was their God.

 

Nobody told him their names. He made them himself, gave them their personalities. The tall man, stuffed with steroids and coated in tribal tattoos was Grog. He was named after ale. He looked like the kind of man that liked ale. Matt _made_ him like ale.

 

Next to him was a girl, shorter than any girl he had ever seen. Matt didn't know what they had put in her hair, but it glowed a bright blonde. Something radioactive? It didn't stop him from touching it. What every they had done to it, they had kept it alive. She was strong. She gave the life to the room. Pike. Matt called her Pike. Single syllable, short and sweet, but full of the fight of the dangerous fish.

 

A man with long brown hair would have been normal, had it not been for his height and slight point sewn into his ears. Matt wondered how they managed to make the pair smaller. They worked in mysterious ways. This man had character, dressed fully in purple. Scanlan, yes, Scanlan. That suited him.

 

Percy was interesting. He had a full name. Matt had _given_ him a full name. But Percy fit him well. He looked the most normal of them all, a mop of grey hair, a pair of golden glasses. When Matt first woke up in the room with them, Percy had clouds of black tattoos. But as Matt read, they disappeared. They came back again, for a while, but went again. He was taken while Matt slept. After Percy woke up. They removed them. Was that Matt? Did he do that?

 

Next was a girl, and a boy. Young adults, with pointed ears stitched much higher than those of the two small people. Dark hair. Same faces. The only difference that one was a girl, and one was a boy. Matt liked to think that they were related. Twins. Vex and Vax, he called them. Matching names for a matching pair.

 

To the right of them was another girl with the tall stitched ears. This girl looked different. Red hair, flowing down her neck. Similar tattoos to the ones that Grog had, but in circles rather than sharp lines. They had sewn flowers into her. Into her hair. Into her clothes. Into her skin. She was beautiful. Keyleth. Matt _made_ her Keyleth.

 

The final bed once contained a man, one of the most altered. Scales sewn into his skin, a tiny pair of horns erupting from his forehead. Matt imagined him to be bumbling, rich, intelligent. Tiberius was a name that fit. But he was gone. Matt didn't know what happened. But they took him after he woke up. They took Tiberius away from Matt.

 

Tiberius wasn't the first to wake up. Pike woke up first. Matt hadn't seen it coming. It wasn't _supposed_ to happen. He was reading to them, then he heard a shout. He dropped his book, and ran to the sound. It had been a long time since he had heard a sound except the sound of his own voice. It surprised him, a sharp, female shriek, followed by heavy breathing. He walked over slowly. Cautiously. Her eyes were open, a bright blue, a look of fear straight up at him.

 

“Don't go.” He muttered. “Be strong Pike.”

 

She didn't speak to him. She just looked up, shaking as she lay. Matt put his hand over her eyes. Matt _made_ her go back to sleep. Matt couldn't let her leave.

 

Grog woke up next. But he didn't wake up. Grog wasn't as stable as the others. He was bigger, stronger. Matt liked Grog. The first time Grog's eyes barely opened before they shut again. Matt didn't even have to help. Not the first time.

 

Then was Tiberius. Matt didn't know what happened. Matt didn't _mean_ to do anything. But this one felt like it was his fault. As if it was something he read in his book rather than something that they created. He woke up. He woke up but he didn't stay still like Pike had, and Grog had. He sat up straight in the bed before Matt could do anything about it. Before Matt could change it. He fell out from the bed, and landed on the floor. Shivering. Shouting nonsensical words.

 

“Go back to sleep.” Matt shouted. “Don't wake up. If you wake up, you leave.”

 

Then Matt found himself lying on the floor. Then it went dark. When he awoke up in the morning, Tiberius was gone. The scaled man was nowhere to be seen. His bed was empty. Matt screamed. Matt shouted. They couldn't do that. They couldn't do that.

 

It was the first time he realised how much power they had over him.

 

Matt didn't read to the rest of them that day.

 

Then Vex woke up. It was soon after. Weeks, maybe even days. Matt didn't know the time. Matt didn't know the time apart from the time that he _made._ But Vex was awake, so soon after Tiberius. And he couldn't allow that.

 

She sat up, but Matt was by her bed before she could open her eyes. He ran, face flustered, hand outstretched, a sharp scream of “No!”

 

He did not try and put his hand over her eyes this time. He did not waste the time. His fingers pressed around her soft neck, purple, bruise like indents left behind. “You. Will. Not. Wake. Up.” He spat through gritted teeth.

 

Her eyes remained open, big, brown and fearful.He pressed down further, he couldn't tell if he was hurting her. He didn't _care_ if he was hurting her. He could make her hurt if he needed to. He could _make_ her hurt if he needed her to stay.

 

Then he felt another hand gripping onto his arm. He let go of her neck in shock. The hand around his wrist pulled him back, he couldn't move. He was going to lose them all. Vax's hand dug in tightly then let go and fell beside his side. When he looked back at Vex her eyes were shut.

Little marks of his fingers were left on her neck. Matt had never left a mark before.

 

Matt didn't know what happened.

 

Matt went back to reading.

 

When Matt woke in the morning, Vax had a pair of giant, black raven wings, sewn into his shoulder blades.

 

He didn't know whether it was a punishment for them, or a gift.

 

Matt didn't try to change it.

 

Then Grog woke again. Matt was reminded of the time that Pike woke up. The same wide eyed look of fear. Matt smiled at him, looked down at his twisted, fearful face. He dropped his head to the man's ears, and whispered “Sleep.” sharply but softly. Grog's eyes shut again.

 

Percy seemed calm as he awoke. Percy was the first to speak to Matt. He sat up in the bed, but did not move. Looked curiously at Matt.

 

“No. Percy. Go back to sleep. You must not leave me.” Matt screamed.

 

Percy smiled at him. He looked blissful. “I don't know if I need to go back.”

 

Matt stood, dumbfounded. Why would Percy want to go? It was perfect. Matt _made_ it perfect. For all of them. He looked round at the others, eyes falling on Vex, reminded of the same blind panic he had with her.

 

“You can't.” Matt cried. “You have love.”

 

Percy gave a look of knowing, then lay back down again. Shut his eyes. Went still once again. Matt noticed the swirling tattoos that he hadn't seen reappearing disappear from view.

 

First Matt was full of relief. He had nearly lost Percy. He had nearly broken again. Then Matt was angry. How could Percy have that power? How was Percy able to chose his fate? Matt _made_ his fate. They _made_ his fate. He should not have had the power to change it.

 

Matt refused to read again for the rest of that day.

 

Then in the morning, he began a new chapter.

 

Little by little, he made his way through the pages, reading to them everyday. Scanlan and Keyleth had not moved, yet he waited for them to. Ready for the day that somebody else would sit up. Ready for the day that he would have to _make_ them go back to sleep.

 

He loved them.

 

He did not want them to leave.

 

He would do whatever it took to keep them sleeping, keep them with him.

 

But he couldn't help wondering who was behind the door. Who put him in the room? Who altered _his family's_ bodies? Who made them wake up?

 

Who was it that took away _his control?_

 

As much as Matt _made_ what happened, there was something else, some greater power, that held the true decision. He wanted to know more. But he couldn't leave the room. Because he couldn't leave them behind.

 

Matt turned the page of his book, and began reading from the next paragraph.


	2. Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After popular demand, I wrote another chapter. There may be another, if people like it.

The book that Matt read was long. Pages and pages long. He would read further and further every day, but the place in the book stayed the same. Every morning when he woke up there would be new pages. New plot. 

 

He read it to them, whatever it said. Not word for word. He  _ made _ some of the plot for them. He  _ made  _ the story. Adding little details, little additions, on the spot. 

 

He  _ made  _ the voices too. He made more characters. Brought them to life. They were his friends too. They were his friends along with the seven remaining. He had more control. They couldn't wake up. 

 

The stories that he made changed. Things would happen that he had little control over. Things happened that they changed. They decided whether things were successful. Whether things worked. Whether people woke up. Matt couldn't do that. Matt could only read.

 

The story talked about dragons. About beasts. About vampire. About beholders. Anything that was written down, Matt read to them. Matt brought it to life, sculpting the character’s very being, dashing with the colour behind his eyes. His mouth moved like music, descriptions that flowed, pourring from his mouth like notes. Crochets and Quavers of being. Shaping with his mind.

 

They were close to his heart.

 

They were more than what was given in the book.

 

Matt  _ made  _ them mean something more. 

  
  


He was reading a passage about a different plain. A different realm. A place of nature. He spoke naturally, not giving anything away that the already knew after reading ahead to the opposite page. 

 

His eyes fell onto Keyleth. 

 

Beautiful.

 

She lay, still as a cadaver.

 

But not dead. She was anything but dead. 

 

Matt continued reading as he walked over to her, book in one hand, other arm outstretched. Fingers shaking. Twitching. 

 

He stood over her, reading directly into her closed eyes. 

 

He placed a hand into her hair, and touched it gently. Then his eyes fell onto the many flowers that were stitched into her hair. One, in particular. Not a light pink, white or yellow like the others. A faded brown. Shriveled up. Hiding away.

 

Matt reached out and felt it with his fingers. It was crisp and broken. It was dead.

 

Dead. An odd thing. Nothing in Matt's mind was dead. Not unless he  _ made  _ it dead. Nothing was  _ allowed  _ to be dead. Not unless he let it die.

 

Swiftly, he ripped the broken flower from her hair, crushed it with his fist. Squeezing, again, again. It wasn't  _ allowed.  _ He didn't  _ allow  _ it.

 

He was about to drop the petals onto the floor and stamp on them when he was interrupted. A knock, on the door. Not a voice. Not an alarm. Just a single knock, resonating throughout the whole room. 

 

Matt jumped back in shock, let the broken flower float to the floor, and curled up in his chair. 

 

They were angry at him.

 

They didn't like him taking from them.

 

They would punish him.

 

They could take somebody else away. 

 

Matt didn't read for the rest of the day. He sat, in his chair. Watching. Waiting. Ready to protect his family. 

 

Nobody came in through the door. 

 

Matt started reading again the next day. 

 

When he looked back, there was another flower stitched in place where he ripped out the last one. Alive.

 

Matt learned not to take from them. Matt also learned that breaking the rules didn't always lead to wrong.

 

Matt smiled at the thought. They didn't take Keyleth. He didn't need to worry. Everyone was safe. Everybody was still there, even though he had done wrong.

 

He became more aware of the power he had. 

 

He had more than he thought he had. 

 

He could do more than he thought he could.

 

He changed the book more after that. Plot changes, making friends enemies, deceiving them. He could almost feel the cries of the seven. He could feel their anger. He  _ made _ their anger.

 

He  _ made _ them hurt. 

 

Images of blood pouring out of necks, axes embedded into shoulders, claws ripping into their flesh. He did that. He created.

 

He  _ liked  _ it.

 

He  _ liked  _ watching them hurt.

 

They feared him. He  _ made  _ them fear him. He could do anything to the seven, as long as they didn't change it. Whoever they were. 

 

The fear  _ made  _ the seven respect him. The book pages would change so that they could avoid his wrath. The words swirled, changed positions in Matt's hands. He watched them as they moved. He watched as he  _ made  _ them change. 

 

As he  _ made  _ the story. 

 

Sometimes he would go easy on them. He  _ had  _ to go easy on them. He loved them. They were his  _ creations.  _ His _ children.  _ But seeing them in pain was more. 

 

He twisted his hands, made them scream and fall. It was too much, but not enough. He could do this. He could control them.

 

Sometimes Matt would scream with them. 

 

He would rip at his neck with his nails, pull his hair downwards as he spat out descriptions, tongue moving like a snakes. He could  _ feel _ it with them. He could  _ make _ himself a part of them.

 

He was never really part of them.

 

Matt knew he was more than them.

 

Matt knew he was better than them.

 

Matt didn't want to be better than them.

 

He wanted to  _ feel.  _ He wanted to be loved back, like he loved them. He didn't want to  _ make  _ life for them. He wanted to  _ be  _ life with them. 

 

He could try, lie down in the spare bed. Shut his eyes for eternity. Stay perfectly still.  _ Become _ them.

 

But he couldn't give up the power. He  _ needed _ the power. 

 

He  _ needed  _ the power that nobody could take. Not even them. He  _ needed  _ it more than anything else. He  _ needed  _ to have control. To  _ be  _ fate. To hold them in his palm and crush them between his fingers like he did with the flower. Let the petals of them float to the floor, land like confetti. Leave the trace of them.

 

Matt could not give up his power.

 

Matt continued reading, flicking through the pages of the book that changed for him.

  
  
  
  



	3. Failures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! It's been a while but I actually updated this more! Love you all :)

Matt didn't understand what was happening. They were moving more and more as time went on. He tried to stop them, as he always did. He didn't have enough power. Not yet.

 

He hated it.  _ He hated them.  _ The ones that took Scanlan away. Scanlan was his friend. They were all his friends. And they could all be taken just like that.

 

Matt hated that. 

 

Things seemed to be less and less in his control as time went on. There were four  _ incidents  _ in a very short time. 

 

First Vex, Vex again. Matt held his breath as he caught her body shifting. She started to move. He couldn't let her move. He had to stop her from moving.  _ No.  _ That didn't work. He couldn't let himself force her head back onto the pillow, press his fingers into her eyeballs to stop her eyelids opening. He couldn't. He wanted to, but he couldn't.  _ They wouldn't let him.  _ Everything would repeat again. Vax would reach out, push him out the way. Then the next morning, one of his friends would return with something stitched into their flesh. A warning.  _ They _ would give Matt another warning. He couldn't always interfer. He  _ hated  _ that. 

 

He went back to reading. He  _ had  _ to ignore it. Pretend that nothing was happening. His words curled out his mouth. Slow, syllable by syllable. Eyes on Vex. He  _ had _ to keep his eyes on Vex. She stilled. 

 

Matt let out a long breath. He let the air push from his chest, filter over his lips. Slow and controlled. He was okay. His friends- his family were safe. 

 

Then Scanlan moved for the first time. 

 

The room went cold. Matt didn't know why. He didn't  _ make  _ it go cold. But the tiny hairs on his arms stood up on end, and a shiver ran through his spine, like an icicle just lodged itself through his chest. 

 

Scanlans little arms moved grabbed the side of the bed. Matt couldn't do this. Vex had barely stopped moving. Scanlan couldn't leave. Matt couldn't let Scanlan leave. This wasn't fair. He couldn't go through this twice.  _ They were doing this to him.  _ This wasn't Matt's fault. It was whoever was outside of the door. Looking in on him as he sat in a locked room. Alone, except for his family, who didn't move. Matt didn't  _ want _ them to move. Matt couldn't  _ let  _ them move. But they did. Because  _ they  _ were punishing him.

 

Why did they want to put him through this pain? Who were they to do this to him, threaten to take two of his family away in the space of a minute? Scanlan was his. Scanlan belonged to Matt. Vex belonged to Matt. All seven of them belonged to Matt. 

 

Should he touch Scanlan? Matt put the book down onto the chair, leaving the page spread open, careful not to crease the paper. He stepped over, leaned over the bed, eyes wide. He couldn't touch. No, he couldn't  _ allow  _ himself to touch. He knew now, he knew that lead to punishment. 

 

Scanlans hands reached out, grasping as if he was falling backwards. Trying to catch himself before he fell of the ledge into consciousness. Until he landed, and woke up in a room with just Matt. Matt and six other bodies. 

 

“Keep your eyes shut.” Matt whispered. He didn't know why he tried to be quiet. He  _ knew _ that  _ they  _ were listening to every single word he said. They could punish him for talking. 

 

No. They couldn't. They wouldn't. He hadn't done anything wrong, he hadn't touched. 

 

Matt held his breath again. His heart thudded between his ears. 

 

One heartbeat.

 

Two heartbeats. 

 

Three heartbeats. 

 

Scanlans hands fell back to his side, landing with a thump. He stilled. Matt didn't move. He didn't want to create anything else. Didn't want to trigger another explosion, trigger somebody else's awakening. He held his breath for as long as he could. 

 

Nothing happened. 

 

Nobody else moved. 

 

Nobody was changed in the night. 

 

But there was far too little time before Scanlan woke up again. 

 

Matt didn't know whether it was worse. Worse because Scanlan had moved so soon before this. Or better, because Matt knew he would go back to sleep again. He went back to sleep before. He would do it again. He  _ had  _ to do it again. 

 

Except he didn't. Scanlan didn't fall. He sat up. Eyes wide open. He looked straight at Matt. His lips were slightly apart, hovering in confusion. 

 

Matt looked right back at him. He didn't want to make eye contact. But he did. Scanlans didn't blink. He didn't move. He didn't even look scared. He looked satisfied. 

 

Did he want to wake up? 

 

Was it like Percy all over again? Was Scanlan going to speak to him? How could Matt make him go back to sleep? Would Scanlan hold the decision, just like Percy did?

 

Matt didn't want that to happen. Matt wanted that power. But it was just another thing that he didn't have control over. 

 

Scanlan didn't lie down again. He didn't take away the eye contact. 

 

Matt didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to have control. And he couldn't understand it, because he always  _ needed _ the control, and it was only ever times like this he felt as if he had truly lost it. 

 

Scanlan got off the bed. Scanlan wasn't  _ allowed _ to get off the bed. Matt hadn't  _ told _ him to get off the bed. But he did anyway. Matt's breathing increased, a fast panting pace, as Scanlan walked to the door. Nobody was allowed through the door. Not even Matt could pass through the door. He didn't  _ know  _ what was behind the door, and he  _ hated _ what he didn't know. And now Scanlan was heading there. 

 

In the corner of his vision, Matt caught some more movement. He took a step back, so he could see the whole room, and almost screamed as Percy started to shudder.

 

Was this it? Were they all leaving him? Were they all going to wake up, and go out that door. They couldn't leave Matt. They  _ belonged _ to Matt. 

 

He sunk to the floor, sliding down the white wall. He couldn't stop it.  _ They,  _ whoever they were, wouldn't let him. He wanted to pick up Scanlan, force him back into his bed, where he  _ belonged _ , and crush his hand over his nose and mouth until he went back to sleep. Was peaceful, once again. But he  _ couldn't.  _ He _ couldn't  _ do what he wanted, because there would be consequences.  _ They  _ would  _ make _ consequences.

 

Matt put his hands over his eyes. If he couldn't see it happening, it wasn't happening. It  _ couldn't  _ be happening. Scanlan was leaving. Percy was leaving. They were all leaving him. He would be alone. He would have nothing. 

 

Matt heard the door screeching as it opened, before everything went black and he felt himself falling towards the floor.  

  
  


When he woke up, it was quiet again. He was still where he had fallen. There were still seven beds. Maybe nothing changed. Maybe by doing nothing, Matt had stopped everything from changing. Maybe  _ they  _ had decided not to  _ punish  _ him. 

 

Matt stood up. He slowly approached the beds, walking from one side of the room to the other. Keyleth. Vax. Vex. Percy. Scanlan. Pike- no- he took a step backwards. That wasn't Scanlan. 

 

Somebody else was in Scanlan's bed. 

 

Whoever this man was was an imposter. He looked a little like Scanlan, had similar features.

  
  
  


But he wasn't Scanlan.

 

Matt didn't want him, because he  _ wasn’t Scanlan. _

  
  


Why should he include this man into his story. He didn't deserve it. He wasn't a part of them. Matt wanted Scanlan back.

 

Matt sat down on his chair, and sat with the book on his legs. Leather cover shut tight, nails digging into the fabric, leaving indents. 

 

He didn't read to them that whole day. He  _ refused  _ to, once again.  _ They  _ couldn't make him. He had gotten away with disobeying before, he could do it again. 

  
  


Matt didn't feel the same way the next morning. We didn't  _ want _ to be worried, but as he lost control over his  _ family, _ he lost control over his emotions. 

 

Matt read to them that day. And nothing happened. 

 

The new man was blonde, wearing pink-gold colours, and wore a similar style of clothing to Percy. Maybe he was rich too? Matt didn't know, he could only create it himself. 

 

Even though he didn't want to, Matt gave the man a name. Taryon Darrington, to fit with his regal look, but shortened to 'Tary’ in the same way Percival was shortened to 'Percy’. 

 

He could accept a new member of the family. Matt knew it might take him some time, but it was better than losing a family member and not gaining another, like the incident with Tiberius. 

 

He just wished he knew where Scanlan had gone. But he suspected that was something he wasn't  _ allowed  _ to know. 

 

Matt missed Scanlan. But he kept reading, the story had to continue. 

  
  


Matt had hoped that after the loss of Scanlan, and reading what seemed almost like a climax in his book, that his friends would stop waking up so much. That didn't happen.

 

Vax woke up next, scrambling with sweaty palms into the bed, looking up at the ceiling. Matt slowly stepped towards him. He didn't want a nightmare like before. He couldn't  _ allow  _ it to happen like before. 

 

The man looked confused and scared, but Matt couldn't get any closer to him. He was stopped by unconscious attacks from both Vex and Keyleth, depending on which side of the bed he walked, pushing him back. Matt didn't know what that was, he didn't  _ understand  _ how they could have such a connection. 

 

But Vax went back to sleep, so all was okay. He didn't have to think about it. It hasn't caused any problems, hadn't disrupted anything. 

 

Keyleth woke in a different manner to everybody else. Matt worried about them, they always looked fearful or tired, or, in Percy's case, as if they were giving up. Matt worried about what could have happened to make them look like that. What  _ he  _ could have put them through.

 

Keyleth had a different expression. Matt's initial surprise at her shooting up into a sitting position was not long-lasting, because she began to giggle. The flowers that encased her moving as she laughed. She did not seem to notice her surroundings, nor ask Matt about anything. 

 

It lasted only a few seconds before she dropped back down again, landing with a thump onto the bedsheets. 

 

Matt wondered why it amused her so much. It never seemed to amuse the others. Maybe it was how she got there, or maybe it was an odd reaction to the situation.

 

It almost made Matt happy, to know that he had met somebody who didn't seem petrified. It was the first time he had seen somebody laugh. Matt liked it. He wished he could see happiness more. He wanted to know how she found it funny, he wanted to replicate that feeling for the others. He knew he couldn't. He knew that  _ they _ would never let him. Never let him be happy. 

 

Or maybe it wasn't a punishment. Maybe by showing Keyleth laughing,  _ they  _ were trying to prove that he could be happy. Maybe they were  _ allowing  _ Matt to be happy. He put his book down, page open, onto his chair, and stepped over to Keyleth. He stroked the petal of one of the light blue flowers in her hair, his fingers barely touching the soft, skin like surface of it. 

 

Then he dropped it. It wasn't  _ their  _ job to  _ make _ Matt happy. Matt made himself happy, if he needed to be. He was in  _ control.  _ He  _ needed  _ the control. Showing Keyleth laughing was a way to spite him, a way to  _ laugh _ at him.  _ They  _ shoved their power in his face.  _ They _ reminded him that he couldn't stop them from waking up. That  _ he  _ couldn't stop Scanlan from leaving. He  _ hated  _ them.  _ They _ had given him all of this just to take it away, what had seemed so good at first.

 

They had forced him to believe in his own made-up power. 

 

Because Matt had no power. They had the power. Just like his family were being controlled, he was too. 

 

That didn't  _ make  _ Matt happy. Whoever was being that door was  _ trying  _ to make him feel good, but was failing. He felt lost once again, like the beds were moving further and further away from him. Like they were all leaving once again. Like Tiberius did. Like Scanlan did. Keyleth was laughing at him. Laughing at his failures. And he didn't like his failures, because he had no  _ power _ over what he could not do.

 

He sat down slowly, and read another page of the story, as a single, solitary tear ran down his left cheek. 

  
  



End file.
